"Where shall we go?" said Kitty, languidly, putting down the French novel she was reading.
"Mr. Ashe suggested San Lazzaro." Margaret looked up from her writing as Kitty moved towards her. "The rain seems to have all cleared off."
"Well, I'm sure it doesn't matter where," said Kitty, and was turning away; but Margaret caught her hand and caressed it.
"Naughty Kitty! why this sea air can't put some more color into your cheeks I don't understand."
"I'm not pale!" cried Kitty, pouting. "Margaret, you do croak about me so! If you say any more I'll go and rouge till you'll be ashamed to go out with me—there! Where's William?"
William opened the door as she spoke, the Gazetta di Venezia in one hand and a telegram in the other.
"Something for you, darling," he said, holding it out to Kitty. "Shall I open it?"
"Oh no!" said Kitty, hastily. "Give it me. It's from my Paris woman."
"Ah—ha!" laughed Ashe. "Some extravagance you want to keep to yourself, I'll be bound. I've a good mind to see!"